Morphine (Complete)

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Chapter Twenty-Three

The bitter taste of beer hung off his tongue like a hand reaching down his throat, holding him captive. He was five drinks in and his mind was only a little buzzed. Every since he'd first laid the divine intoxication of alcohol on his tongue, Mykel had not stopped. It was that and cigars; his two muses. He couldn't call it an addiction, because those that were addicted were always searching for something within their toxin.

Mykel knew nothing really came from it, sipping whiskey or wine, but he drank it anyways.

Another sip was one step closer to having his organs fail. One more sip was the chance that he'd end it all.

The rapid knocking of fists on his door wrenched a groan from his dry throat. His lidded eyes turned to the door and allowed his visitor in.

One of his workers stumbled in, stress clear in their face.

"Sir-sir, there's been an—"

The sound of Mykel's ringtone went off. Each vibration of noise in the air went straight through his skull and bounced against the pink meaty flesh of his brain—bam, bam—with each beat of his heart.

"Hold on," Mykel grit out, ignoring the sweating boy before him as he lugged his phone up and pressed it to his ear. "What?" He snapped.

"Your suite's security network has been breached," a hurried voice rushed out through the phone, "security personnel is searching the building, but they can't—"

Mykel ended the call and slammed his phone onto his desk. The darkness that exuded from his glowering form sent the boy in front of him into a fit of panic.

"Is this what you came to tell me, boy?" Mykel inquired lowly.

"Yes."

"Ah. And are you aware of what is living at my suite?" Mykel's stare turned inquisitorial and gleamed in the corners. He cocked his head to the side, and though half of his face was clearly lit, the embedded shadows felt so much more present...so much more omnipotent...

"Yes?"

Mykel's fist slammed down on the desk, and he shot up in a whir of movement. The boy barely had time to change his face from fear to shock before Mykel had thrown him into the wall. The boy's back crashed into the harsh edges of Mykel's bookcase, leaving levels to crash down and books to fall. Once the last had fallen, nothing but the sound of Mykel's heavy breathing remained. His fingers flexed idly as he stared down at the unconscious boy before him, slumped over with books covering his limp body.

Carter was in there, dammit. Carter was a priority, not a second thought—if the boy was in danger, none of those fucking imbeciles mattered.

A breach in the security could mean one of two things: someone had hacked into the network from outside the suite, in which case it was probably only a matter of time before someone got to killing; or the second option, where it was within. A fucking rat, and either Mykel got someone's blood on his hands or they'd get Carter's spilt first.

Mykel didn't know who'd breached security, it could've been one person or a group of them, but fuck—

Maybe Rannia would be taken from him too.

He slugged on his jacket and stepped out of his building. Instantly, wet sheets of rain pelted down on his head, shattering along the street and breaking down into streams of mini rivers. Mykel brought a hand to his face to see and began hunting down the nearest car—one he would either use, or one he would steal. It didn't matter.